Of Ice, Roses, and Lies
by Shingobunny
Summary: Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion. YAOI, MATURE, MarluxiaVexen.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Notes: I highly detest writing notes in front of what a I write, however, I don't think that I have much of an option. Chapters will come slow. I don't care if you don't like how I write characters; this is my Vexen-Marluxia-whatever. I also have a fetish for obscenely long titles. This will have mature themes, so all comments containing "LOL omg, he got buttsexed" or whatever. Flames will be ignored.

Really, just posting this here to be approved by y!gallery staff. XD;

_Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion_

**Chapter One  
**

Slender fingers slid down the replica's cheek, the pads of the scientist's fingers caressing the alabaster skin framed by strawberry-pink locks. The academic's gloved fingers moved across plump lips that twitched ever-so-slightly to the stimulation; after all, the lips were one of the most sensitive organs on the human body. Nerve bundles connected to them, sending the information of what happened to the brain and eliciting a response.

The clone's mouth predictably opened to the soft movement of Vexen's leather-clad fingers, however, aquamarine eyes remained fixed ahead—unresponsive completely until Vexen's fingers snapped next to his temple. The clone jumped, his mouth closing and his gaze shifting to the hand. He blinked, his head tilting to the side. He blinked again, his eyes following Vexen's finger as he held it in front of his face and moved it slowly.

"Very good," Vexen said quietly. "Can you speak, clone?"

The clone's gaze rose, looking up to Vexen and staring at him quietly as he finally had made eye contact with the Nobody. He opened his mouth once the command had processed and made a small sound—an attempted vocalization.

"Not yet," Vexen said with a slightly disappointed sigh. He picked up a clip board, his hand moving quickly across the page of chicken-scratch notes that only he could possibly make sense of. "I cannot believe that I was charged with creating you for that _indignant_ bastard."

The clone sat quietly, his hands still folded across his pale-skinned lap, they having been placed that way from before he woke up. His body did not move entirely yet, and as Vexen predicted, would not until a couple of hours. He slid the pen he had been using through the top of the metal clip on the clipboard before resting it down next to the clone's side and moved his chair back slightly. He stared at the perfect copy he had created, observing the blank look combined with elegant beauty—all of his work obviously having paid off.

"You will be able to speak and move soon enough," Vexen said, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers together as he leaned back in the chair. "So, until that time, I shall inform you of what and who you are."

The replica sat quietly, looking at Vexen without thought.

"You are a copy—a clone, a replica—of the master of this place," Vexen explained, knowing that he would have to speak slowly for the clone. "That person is Marluxia of Organization XIII. Despite being of lower rank than myself, he is in charge of where we are now. This is Castle Oblivion, and we are in the basement laboratory of the structure." Vexen took a breath, mostly to force himself to slow down in his speech to the replica. "I will not draw my explanation out about your existence: you were created to serve as Marluxia's body double in the event that Sora reaches him and has become aggressive."

The replica's brow twitched—and Vexen smiled slightly as he pushed himself forward in his chair and picked up his clipboard. Quietly, he started to write once more, noting the copy's show of annoyance or perhaps anger: the first clear emotion to be observed. Vexen leaned back in his seat once more, resting the clipboard diagonally across his lap and knitting his fingers together.

"In order to assimilate with Marluxia entirely, once you have you basic life functions mastered, you will be taken to Namine to have your memories match selected behavior and mannerisms of the actual Marluxia," he explained. "But until then, you will stay with myself. You are still developing, actually, though you have impressions of Marluxia within your being, therefore, your development is more accelerated than an infants. But I am unsure of how long Marluxia's life has been prior to becoming a Nobody, but I estimated that his Somebody was in his mid-twenties."

The replica moved his mouth, a gasping attempt at words coming from him.

"A Somebody is what I once was," Vexen continued, his speech still slow as he pressed a hand to his chest. "One with a Heart. Once the Heart is captured and lost to the darkness, a Heartless and a Nobody are born. I would be the Nobody of Even—Vexen. You may address me as 'Vexen' when your vocal cords develop. Anyways, Nobodies are without emotion due to a lack of a Heart, are neither light nor dark, and simply not meant to be."

The replica said nothing, his mouth closing without another sound at Vexen's explanation.

"Regardless, you are a copy of Marluxia," Vexen said, his viridian eyes narrowing slightly. "You are to answer to me, and no one else of the Organization. I—"

Vexen's speech was interrupted by the light sound of crackling combined with the sound of a light gust of wind—the unique sound of a corridor of darkness being formed in the room. The sound of boots on the tile of the laboratory were soon heard before Larxene was standing next to Vexen's chair, her hand going down to rest on the other blonde's shoulder.

"Ohh, and I take it that creating Marluxia's replica went well," she purred, her eyes looking down at him. She opened her mouth to speak once again before Vexen's hand brushed her hand away from him. "Well, we don't have to get bitchy, my elder."

"Save your _snippy_ attitude for someone who will actually entertain your presence, Neophyte," Vexen hissed standing from his chair and opening his metallic clipboard, sliding his notes into it and locking it. As if he was going to permit the likes of Larxene into his belongings. "I take it that Marluxia wishes for me to have an _audience _with him."

"But of course," Larxene purred. "His Highness wishes for you to grace him with your presence, lowly commoner." With that, she bowed and soon stepped backward into a corridor of darkness that she had formed.

Vexen's eyes remained narrowed at where Larxene had been before he turned to face the replica once more. The doll sat there, as if Larxene had not arrived at all, his hands still immaculately folded in his lap like before to cover his bare genitals.

"You stay there," Vexen said to him, pointing a finger to the copy and narrowing his eyes once more. "I will be back shortly. Do not move from this spot; I will provide for you when I return."

The replica said nothing, just staring at Vexen as he left much like Larxene had before him.


	2. Chapter 2

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 2

The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the stadium. Men and women in armor assigned in neatly ordered rows, standing out in front of a crowd of what had to be over several thousand people. Helmets were being removed from elaborate armor as cheers filled the crystalline blue sky. The early fall temperature was perfect for such a celebration; however, more so for the spectators than those who were being celebrated. After all, several layers of metal were rather hot to stand around in, especially with the heat of the sun upon them.

The armor-clad soldiers were clearly divided into ranks and rows, specifying what each unit's task was and what their relation was to another row—much knowledge that would be lost to the common person of Radiant Garden, but told much to those familiar with the workings of the military.

"I'm too damned hot," came a hiss from within the rows.

"Oh, shut it, this is a formal celebration," came the retort from another of the armor-wearing men. "Let Ansem give his speech, and then we can go."

"Other people are taking off their helmets," was the whispered reply. One such person in the front had removed his, followed by another. "Even?"

Fingers worked along the elaborate light blue metal helmet, scarred with scrapes and dents, much like the rest of his armor. Soon, the helmet was off, and the man shook his head. He glanced to the others as he held the helmet in his hands; however, the glance was only brief and his focus was up ahead to where their leader walked. His hair was delicate, natural blonde that seemed almost blindingly white in the sun. He had pulled it back in a small ponytail, mostly to keep the slightly longer than shoulder length hair off of his neck. The only part of his hair not swept back was his chin-length bangs that framed his face. However, bright emerald eyes behind a pair of thin, silver glasses went back to the men next to him and he let out a sigh.

"You have permission to remove your helmets," Even stated dryly. "We are just a medical unit, anyways."

"Yeah," grumbled the dark haired man next to him, his helmet now off. Soon, the clamor of helmets of other men followed within the back row, followed by whispered sighs of relief.

"No complaining," Even smiled slightly. "Just think—after formalities and a speech or three, we're _finally_ back home."

"Probably more than that, knowing Ansem," smiled a redheaded man with a slight bit of facial hair. "A whole song and dance for the keyblade warriors and the works."

"We're keyblade warriors, too," the dark haired man retorted with a slight frown across his dark features.

"We are the Royal Army's First Medical Division," Even stated in a practiced tone. The doctor had stated it time and time again, and fell back onto the explanation one again. "We provide curative support and medical aid to those out in the field through modern medicine integrated with healing magic."

A small silence, followed by a laugh from the redheaded man. "In other words, we're just keyblade support," he stated. "Not warriors."

"Years of medical school to get tossed into the back row," Even laughed in a hushed voice. His tone did not express any bitterness; the only thing expressed in Even's voice was relief and happiness.

"Well, you're going back to your job at the Radiant Garden Medical Center, aren't you?" the redheaded man asked curiously.

Even laughed loudly for a moment, one of his hands moving up to his mouth to stifle the laughter. After all, there was, quite technically still a royal ceremony going on in front of them.

"I have to go back," Even said with a bright smile, his voice still a whisper. "Otherwise, I won't have any way to put food on the table for myself and my family. I would most certainly not like to starve myself. There are things that need to be done there."

"Is it true that you got an offer as head researcher?" one of the light blue armored men said.

Even shook his head quietly. "No, as far as I know, that rumor is false," the fair-haired man replied. He opened his mouth to speak once again, but a loud roar of applause, which he promptly felt that he had to join in on, silenced him. Awkwardly holding his helmet against his chest, Even joined in with a light clap. "I missed what he was talking about."

"You didn't miss much," mumbled the redhead. "He's just about to hand out medals."

Even just smiled slightly and decided to turn his attention toward the medal awarding ceremony in front of him. After all, it was the respectful thing to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 3

Vexen had soon appeared within Marluxia's inner chambers. Marluxia's bedroom was the largest room within Castle Oblivion, but the only one that was decorated in a similar way to the way that the hallways were. The only difference was the presence of actual living plants mixed with the ones of marble. Tendrils of vines climbed the walls and hung down, making the room appear like a greenhouse. Colors and scents flooded ones senses upon entering Marluxia's room (Zexion often complained about how he could barely detect anything other than the perfume of flowers), and they were always pleasurable. However, Vexen was well aware that this was possibly the most dangerous room within Castle Oblivion: the whole room was itself an extension of Marluxia's will. Plants blossomed and closed with the movements of Marluxia's lips and the mere sound of his voice.

"_Vexen,_" Marluxia purred as he stood from his desk and faced the scientist. Like a southern bell coming to greet her guest, Marluxia's gait was sweeping and elegant yet his thin smile concealed a very bitter and hidden venom. "I see that Larxene managed to bring you without incident or personal injury to herself. You came quickly."

"I'm busy, Eleven," Vexen said curtly, his posture completely rigid as he looked down his nose at the neophyte. "I hope that you have a very good reason for calling me here."

"Of course, of _course_," Marluxia said with a smile. He waved his hand toward a coffee table that occupied his room. Two couches flanked its sides and roses twined up its legs, all the color red. "Please, make yourself comfortable while we discuss business here." He looked to his side, a Dusk appearing. "Tea." The Dusk disappeared at the simple command from the superior Nobody before Marluxia moved to take his seat. Vexen made a sigh that was more than just slightly audible before he complied and followed, sitting on the couch opposite the Graceful Assassin.

Vexen sat stiffly in the plush couch feeling his thin form sinking into the white cushions as he sat. Marluxia leaned back on his couch with a lazy elegance, his hands folded together.

The long silence held between the two was tense yet not forced: Vexen did not wish to speak, and Marluxia merely watched the other.

"So, how goes the cloning and the basement?" Marluxia asked with his voice mocking his notable superiority over the scientist.

"You summoned me to chat?" Vexen snapped, his arms folded across his chest already as he looked at Marluxia.

"No," Marluxia said as a Dusk arrived. The mute Nobody placed the porcelain teapot on the table, its small arms shaky and causing a great clamor of pot against tea tray. Two more Dusks appeared, each with a petite white cup rested on a white saucer. "Pour, please," Marluxia commanded in a soft voice. With that, the first Dusk (the other two having left once the cups were placed) started to pour the tea into the two cups before handing them to the more evolved Nobodies. "Thank you," Marluxia said with a smile and a nod as he gingerly took the floral cup and saucer. Once those were in his hands, he sat in a more refined manner.

Vexen, on the other hand, merely took the saucer and the cup, holding it while just looking down his nose at the Dusk without saying a word. The Dusk looked at Vexen with what the scientist mused was a slightly higher cognitive level than his replica. The Dusk darted away and Marluxia leaned to the table after having a taste of his tea.

"Milk?" Marluxia asked.

"No thank you," Vexen curtly replied, watching as Marluxia poured a bit of milk into his tea, causing it to lighten.

"I figured that would be your answer," Marluxia replied with a bemused laugh. "One for taking things straight. I imagine that your coffee is taken in a similar manner."

"I don't drink coffee," Vexen replied.

"Is that so?" Marluxia said, smiling as he leaned back once his tea was the way he wanted it. He gazed at the older man ahead of him, his tall frame and slender features coupled with a ridiculously small piece of drinkware made the pink haired man smirk a little more into his tea as he sipped it elegantly.

"I do not like consuming caffeine, and I am hardly pleased with drinking tea. And I said I wasn't here for idle chit-chat," Vexen said. Green eyes darted critically down to the tea. He took a sip and nearly found himself gagging on it—not bothering to hide the displeasure at Marluxia's faux hospitality. "This is way too sweet," Vexen snapped.

"You are way too blunt," Marluxia said. "I take it that Even was a sheltered intellectual with little culture."

Vexen gritted his teeth, not for the insult on his Somebody but for the further dodging of the subject at hand. "I grow tired of your attempted banter," Vexen countered. "I will take my leave of this meeting with my own volition if your drawn out attempts at welcoming me persist."

"Well, if you're going to be acting this way to the Lord of Castle Oblivion," Marluxia said, having gained what he wanted apparently by ruffling the elder's feathers. "So, tell me of your replica of myself."

Vexen relaxed, placing the saucer and cup down on the coffee table and steepling his fingers slightly. "He is physically just like you," Vexen said. "He is responsive on a basic level, however, immobile at the moment as his neurons and muscles make connections. Essentially, he's a quickly developing infant."

"Mmn," was the only sound that Marluxia said. "So, you dislike tea?"

Vexen _scowled_.

"Did you not pay attention to a single word that I said?" Vexen hissed.

"Of course," Marluxia said pleasantly. "You dislike tea for the caffeination, and my replica isn't completed yet. Do you know what else tea contains?"

Vexen's eyes rolled at what Number Eleven was speaking about. "I do not care what the contents of tea are and I find it far from relevant to our current conversation," Vexen snapped.

Marluxia just shrugged lightly. "Proceed, then," he smiled before he sipped the milk-filled tea.

"He should be fully functional within a day or so and speaking shortly," Vexen said, calming down slightly. "I don't know your Somebody's age, but I know that it won't take long for him to regain most of the 'essence' of your functioning and bits of your personality. Then he can be taken to Namine to have his memories to match yours."

"Most interesting, this combination of yourself and Namine," Marluxia said, chuckling. "Playing God with creation and the Heart." Vexen's expression was blank, seeming to not show offence to the remark. "So, you know what theanine is, don't you?"

"Another inquiry into _tea_?" Vexen snapped. "Of course, I _know_ what theanine is. It is an amino acid commonly found in tea that has slight psychoactive prop—"

Vexen stopped mid-sentence, finding himself staring ahead at Marluxia, blinking sleepily as he collapsed and fell onto his side on the couch. His body felt completely heavy—like he desperately needed sleep, however, he knew that his mind was very active.

"Psychoactive prop?" Marluxia mocked as the scientist body became limp. "Psychoactive propaganda? Properness? Propriety?" Marluxia stood up from the couch, clapping his hands together as he looked down at Vexen. "Oh, I think you were going to say 'psychoactive properties'!"

Marluxia sauntered around the table, moving to where Vexen had slumped. Roughly, the Neophyte rolled Vexen onto his back and narrowed his eyes down at him.

"Goddamn you," Vexen said in a sleepy mumble as he found Marluxia stroking his hair and bringing it out of his face.

"Anyways," Marluxia continued, moving himself next to Vexen and looking down at him quietly, a near demonic smile on his face. "You should know that I control all aspects of plants, Vexen—I can easily construct a concoction that will hold no affect to myself but could be near… lethal to you. I'll only be sleepy once I am done with you, my love."

Vexen felt his skin crawling—and he felt that sensation even more once Marluxia's hands were going to the zipper of his cloak. The leather layer of his wardrobe was soon removed from him, revealing what one would expect from a conservative scientist: a white button down shirt and a pair of simple black slacks.

"Marluxia," Vexen said, a growl in his voice before he felt a firm hand move to his crotch and give a tight grab. He gasped, a mixture of fear and a hazy realization that that there was only one thing that Marluxia could have been intending with a drug that would only incapacitate him—not kill him—and with removing his cloak: rape.

Marluxia smiled, drinking in the reaction from the blonde scientist. The "fear" and "hate" directed toward him.

"That's right, Four," Marluxia smiled, "I'm going to have my way with you as your temporarily paralyzed. Oh, look at that!" With a devilishly child-like glee, Marluxia's hand was removed from the slacks. "It seems that with the right chemicals, my dearest scientist, your dick will get hard just like anyone else."

Marluxia's hand pulled back and soon he focused on removing the remainder of Vexen's clothing, leaving the thin scientist exposed and vulnerable on his sofa. Marluxia was promptly starting to remove his own clothing at that moment, leaving a combination of their clothing strewn on the floor in a cluttered display. Vines moved quickly, starting to twine themselves around the Academic's ankles and jerking them apart.

"I'll…. inform Superior of this…" Vexen threatened through his daze of sleepiness and growing arousal as he felt a warm hand clasp him and hold it for a moment. Vexen's voice hitched for a moment and he let out a surprised yelp shortly after.

"Idle threats, Vexen," Marluxia said quietly. He pulled back for a moment to stand up completely once again. "You can't do a damn thing with me in charge of the Castle. Besides, I will have you for insubordination for an attempt to cry wolf to Xemnas."

"S-Sick bastard," Vexen gasped, his gaze soon turning up to the ceiling. His mind wandered, noting how the flowers in the room seemed to be in the midst of an explosion of blossoming. Red, yellow, purple, white and every other hue against a backdrop of twisted chartreuse vines and leaves mixed to a nauseating rainbow-colored circus. Coupled with the eruption of scents in the room, Vexen knew he would soon become sick from the over-stimulation he was receiving.

Just as Vexen had become lost in his thoughts and had lulled himself into a near-sleep trance, Marluxia appeared over him again.

"You're quite attractive like this—slack-jawed and glazed, doped and horny," Marluxia said, placing the palms of his hands on Vexen's jaw.

Vexen dully wondered when Marluxia had moved between his legs before he realized that _Marluxia was in between his legs_. The thought of the Neophyte actually penetrated him restored Vexen's resolve to escape, making him attempt to scream. His hands moved toward Marluxia, however, he found that they were restrained over his head and pulled back over the arm of the sofa.

"G-Get away from me!" Vexen shouted out before he found Marluxia's palms push up and shut his mouth. He felt his head being pushed back into his arms before Marluxia's mouth finally moved down to his.

Eleven's tongue immediately brushed roughly against Vexen's before he quickly removed his hands from the other's jaw and moved them down to his chest as he stole a passionately violent kiss. Deft fingers pinched and pulled at cool skin before he started to grind against Vexen and made a deep growl. Teeth met tender flesh as Marluxia bit down hard enough to draw blood. The iron-tasting liquid filled Marluxia's mouth and made the older man scream loudly.

The petal-colored haired man pulled away from the kiss, droplets of the other's blood splatter down onto each other's chins. He barely noticed the blood freezing against Vexen's skin to form ruby-like crystals. The crystals chipped and fell off as Vexen breathed.

His emerald eyes retained a shimmer of defiance as he looked at Marluxia, his sore lip trembling. The scientist's mind could not differentiate between consciousness and unconsciousness, pain and pleasure. Vexen's body twisted with the vines that held him on the white leather sofa, his half-hearted attempt to escape stopped.

"You must be senile, my elder," Marluxia stated, reaching forward and grabbing the shard of ice that Vexen had clutched in his hand. Marluxia played with it for a moment once he had freed it from Vexen's clutches. Four was not even ware that he had summoned the small dagger-like weapon until Marluxia fingered it in half-interest and tossed it onto the coffee table.

Vexen's legs were spread further apart before he felt Marluxia grab a hold of his legs to brace himself and push into him. The blonde's back immediately arched in pain from the sudden penetration. Marluxia's pace was ruthless and unrelenting as soon as he heard that scream from the ice-user. The water from the ice melting slightly in Marluxia's hand froze again when he made contact with Vexen's leg, making it stay in place.

The blonde struggled and cried against the movements—something that he would have not done if he had not been in a drugged state. Blood flowed from his entrance, freezing against their skin before cracking off of his skin onto the couch. His eyes gazed into Marluxia's own eyes, vaguely aware of seeing himself back in them. Marluxia's smile never disappeared.

Marluxia said nothing beyond grunts and whispered moans. Rose-colored hair hung down around his face as he looked at Vexen. Vexen was his newest trophy—the most intriguing new toy (as Larxene might have stated it)—and the Assassin fully intended to take advantage of the toy. His lips soon started to press against Vexen's skin. Blood melted at Marluxia's warm breath, and his tongue hungrily lapped it up once more.

Vexen merely lay in place. A whimper, a whisper, a plea would escape from his lips as Marluxia's breathless moans overpowered his voice. His arms were stretched back more and the vines felt like they were pulling his legs further apart than before, however. Finally, though, Vexen felt it come to an end as Marluxia's hands gripped him.

Moments in silence passed by between the two of them, Marluxia lying against the completely rigid Vexen. Vexen's eyes were stuck on the ceiling, his eyes fixed on one particular blossom. He was not sure what kind of flower it was, though, it was a mixture of blue and white and delicate.

Marluxia moved off of his body and smiled pleasantly to himself. The vines relaxed on Vexen's legs and arms, but the scientist remained on the couch.

"Now then," Marluxia said to himself as he moved to his bed, sliding up onto it. "You are dismissed from my room now, Four." He grinned, watching the Nobody struggle with moving his arms back to his sides. Marluxia casually dressed himself in his nightwear before moving to his tea and picking it up as he stared down at Vexen. "You pathetic slug. Not even moving when commanded to." Marluxia merely rolled his eyes to add onto the display of annoyance before several Dusks he controlled appeared and started to roughly dress Vexen once more. No care was taken in dressing the blonde once again; thin limbs were pulled through pants legs and sleeves, but shirts and cloaks were left undone. When it was all done, Vexen sat upright in the couch, sitting in the melted blood on the couch, his breath heavy and his eyes gazing ahead of him.

Marluxia moved to him, his hands pulling his robe closed as the Dusks picked up his Organization uniform, folding it and carefully placing it into his closet. The peach haired man sat next to the scientist, looping his arm around his shoulder and holding him for a moment.

"Let… go of me…" Vexen snarled despite his voice being broken by pain and fatigue. "Immediately, Eleven…"

The scythe user said nothing, one hand remaining on his cloak to keep it closed while the arm over Vexen's shoulder lifted up and his bare hand stroked Vexen's hair.

"If my replica's mobility develops slowly, do not be surprised," Marluxia said rather suddenly, his voice lacking the sugary yet condescending coat of elegance. Vexen turned his head to glare at Marluxia, his gaze hot and unrelenting toward the Neophyte despite his inability to move completely.

'_Why in the hell would he tell me that?'_ Vexen hissed in his mind.

"I will want to hear more from you tomorrow, Four," Marluxia stated. "Get some rest, as I would hate to see you have bags under your eyes—it detracts from their beauty."

With a chaste kiss to Vexen's cheek, Marluxia stood once more, and Vexen found himself falling—through what he assumed was a corridor formed under him.


	4. Chapter 4

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 4

Even walked down the hallway of the building quietly, his footsteps echoing hollowly through the chilled, sterile halls. The research institute was where Even spent most of his days after the war. Designated a war hero for his defensive use of ice magic to protect critical points and stations, Even chose not to glorify himself in the matter. The position of head researcher to the Radiant Garden Medical Center was granted to him nearly immediately when he had come home. 

Passing through the bars of light that had scattered upon the floor through the windows, Even continued walking until he took a right down the hallway. Slender fingers clutched files and documents to his chest as he walked into a boardroom. 

⌠It▓s a pleasure to see you.■

Even jumped from his thoughts, fair blonde hair falling around his face once again as he looked up. Green eyes widened and his jaw dropped; Ansem the Wise stood there, his entourage of assistants around at the long table. 

Even noticed an intimidating man with dark brown hair was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes wandered over to a man with short, slicked back hair, distracted by folding a paper clip idly while his legs were propped up onto the table. Past him were a boy and about the largest≈muscle-wise, that is≈man Even had ever seen in his life. The boy was petit and well dressed, staring right at him from his chair. The man next to him was looking down at his hands folded across his lap; Even noticed blue eyes flick over to the teenaged boy for a moment to study his expression before looking over at Even himself. Finally, Even▓s eyes fell upon the person situated next to Ansem the Wise. This person was exotic looking with his combination of tanned skin and sunset hue eyes, framed by long silver bangs. 

⌠You look like a fish,■ the man next to the door stated, pushing himself off of it to look down at Even. Even cowered slightly, fingers clutching tighter to the papers in his arms. However, despite the cowering, Even did not hesitate to shoot a slight glare toward the man. The intimidating man merely laughed at the doctor, causing him to become increasingly flustered.

⌠Dilan, do not pester the good doctor,■ the boy said, his hands still neatly folded across his lap. His eyes went to Even. ⌠It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ienzo.■ With that, Ienzo politely bowed his head from his seat.

Even returned the nod as the man seated next to the boy spoke up as well. ⌠My name is Aeleus,■ he said. He turned his head slightly to cast a glance at the man that had been situated at the wall. ⌠That would be Dilan. Though, I▓m sure they could all introduce themselves without my help.■

⌠Braig!■ the man with slicked back hair said simply. He offered a wave before his primary attention went back to the paperclip in his hands. ⌠Great to meet you, doc.■

The man apparently named Dilan nodded to Even. ⌠It▓s a pleasure,■ he said in a slightly gruff voice.

⌠And this is my primary assistant, Xehanort,■ Ansem stated, placing a hand on the quiet man▓s shoulder. Even bit his lip as he looked at the other, catching and holding his gaze. Xehanort▓s eyes were intense and analytical as they watched the blonde doctor. Xehanort nodded gently in Even▓s direction before his blank look was replaced by a kind smile. Even could not help but return it to the other man.

⌠It▓s an honor to meet you,■ Xehanort said quietly. His head bowed and he heard Ansem the Wise▓s slight chuckle behind the assistant. Even felt his body relax at the seeming approval he gained from Ansem, but more so at the strange assistant, Xehanort. 

⌠Like wise,■ Even replied. ⌠It▓s very nice to meet all of you≈it▓s absolutely an honor to meet you face-to-face, sir.■ Even expressed his humility with another nod of his head to Ansem, a little lower than before.

Ansem motioned to the seats at the long desk, a cue for all six of the other men to be seated. Dilan did not hesitate to comply, and Even soon joined in a flustered movement to the desk. He sat down immediately and turned his attention to the leader of all Radiant Garden.

⌠I imagine that you▓re wondering why you▓ve been called here, yes?■ Ansem the Wise said, chuckling slightly as he looked at Even. Even nodded quietly, his fingers lightly digging into the files he was holding. 

⌠Yes, sir,■ Even replied gently. 

⌠As you most likely already know,■ Ansem stated from his spot at the table, ⌠I have begun research on the powers of the Heart. The capacity of the structure of emotions, being one of these, as well as memories and their influence on the Heart are all topics that I would wish to cover. Considering that you▓re in the field of neurosciences≈and a man that has been witness to the Keyblade War, then I would love to have your input into this matter.■ Ansem paused, clearing his throat as his amber eyes toward the doctor. ⌠Dr. Even Ziegler, would you be interested in taking a position as one of my assistants?■

Even felt as if he had been hit with a bucket of cold water; all of the air went out of him with those words. He did not mind the light, amused laugh that came from Dilan▓s end of the table, and quickly tried to gather his bearings. However, their king continued.

⌠It is of great importance that we continue and better our understanding of the Heart≈especially the side of Darkness that encroaches on the Light,■ Ansem the Wise continued. He leaned forward. ⌠It would be the best for the security of our land if we are to study the multifaceted dimensions of the Heart. Considering you are an expert on illnesses that pertain to not just the body, I imagined that you would be the one I would like to seek for my final research assistant.■

Even managed to gather his thoughts into words before he spoke. ⌠I┘ I would be honored to be selected for such a task,■ Even said, feeling another release of tension from Ansem▓s expression. ⌠What are some of the other tasks that would be expected of me? I hate to bring up such an issue, but I have a family┘ My wife▓s expecting, and I had been intending to take extra leave┘■

⌠I wouldn▓t worry about that, Dr. Ziegler,■ Ansem said, a benevolent smile going onto his face. Even▓s shoulders relaxed at the news, breathing out an audible sigh of relief. ⌠Pay, and other things will be arranged≈this certainly will not be a downward move, and will be able to pursue your regular position here.■

A smile came onto the blonde doctor▓s face, his decision reached already. ⌠Then, I would gladly take the position, sir,■ Even said, bowing his head deeply once again. 


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Notes: I hate using author's notes, but this should be a corrected, EASY to read version. vv;_

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 5

Vexen landed heavily in his laboratory, his body in a pile of limbs and cloak.

"Fuck!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, struggling with shaky arms to push himself off of the ground. His limbs were sore from being held in an uncomfortable position over his head and being bent backward; not to mention, his backside just hurt like hell. "I hate that son of a bitch!" Vexen cried at the top of his lungs in outrage, not caring if Lexaeus or Zexion were to enter.

The scientist, in all of his pride, could not and would not permit himself to cry. He was a man, of course, and a man that carried himself with more control than that deviant Marluxia. He would not allow the Lord of Castle Oblivion the joy of his crying, even if he were not there to hear or watch it.

As he came out of his chemically induced stupor, Vexen was on his knees, his breath labored.

"Vi…"

Vexen turned his head to the side to see the replica leaning forward from where he sat. Aquamarine eyes looked at Vexen, worry and fear etched into them as he looked at the scientist on the floor. The replica pushed himself onto the floor, managing to break the fall on his elbows and forearms before he started to crawl in an infantile motion.

"Stay back," Vexen commanded, the frozen and bloodied bite on his lower lip being pulled to reopen the wound. Blood trickled down his chin as he scowled toward the replica, his hands drawing and tightening into fists.

The doll advanced, pushing his muscular body up to sit on his knees. A soft hand reached up to Vexen's chin, the pads of baby-soft skin gracing against the bloody crystals under Vexen's lower lip. Body heat melted the jagged crystal and flowed down his fingertips. The replica stared, enthralled with the red going down his index and middle finger, tracing down his palm. The droplet stopped, hanging on his wrist and fell with a splatter on Vexen's pants leg. His eyes looked up at Vexen submissively while pink, virginal lips parted again.

"I said for you to stay back, you idiot!" Vexen roared as he broke the hush, jerking away from the replica and striking him with the back of his hand. With a surprised yelp, the clone hit the floor on his side, his legs immediately pulling up to his chest, making him go into a near-fetal position to protect his face from further harm from his creator. His eyes were wide and staring at the scientist, fear and confusing filling them the first sign of tears were coming to his eyes were soon rolling down his cheeks.

Vexen stared at the clone that looked back up at him, vulnerable and prone on the white tile of the cool laboratory.

"That hurt!" was only excuse Vexen could give for his action. It clicked in Vexen's mind that he was now of more increased mobility, thus granting him increased dominance. "Don't touch me there, fool! Can't you see that I'm bleeding?!"

The replica stared at Vexen, his chest starting to heave up and down before a full force wail came from him.

"Shut up, you don't know what I've been through!!!" Vexen screamed out loudly raising an open palm to the sobbing doll and striking him crudely across the face. The replica reeled; this move only brought bigger tears and louder cries from the smaller man under him. This crying, in turn, elicited increasing anger from the scientist until his bare hands grabbed the doll's shoulders, twisting the other's frail body to be pinned under him.

The doll's cries filled the laboratory as he looked up at Vexen with absolute terror. Vexen stared down at the face of Marluxia under him, crying and screaming like a child. The clone cried and wept, as Vexen stared down at him, his tussled blond hair falling over his shoulders. Vexen's hair brushed to the replica's cheeks, gracing over the other's face. The doll sniffled and stared up at Vexen, his eyes as wide as he looked up at the scientist from the slight brush of hair. However, he only to earned a look of utter disgust, yet strange satisfaction, from Vexen.

"Vi…" he started softly, his voice silken and deep even if only for a child-like attempt at speaking. He started to gasp out more but was immediately gagged by a strong pair of strong, icy hands clasping at his neck.

"I don't want to hear you speak!" Vexen roared, ignoring the frightened gasps of the clone under him as he strained for breath. "You bastard!" His thumbs pressed down into flesh, doing his best to attempt to silence, before a smile came onto Vexen's face. He grinned down at the frightened form under him before he pulled away; the scientist would not kill the copy.

Vexen was quickly taking his hand to the front of his slacks, jerking his pants down mid-thigh and removing his length from within as the replica gasped and struggled for breath now that his airway was free. He still had the remnants of arousal in his body from his previous encounter with the true Marluxia. No other thought was made between his body and his mind as Vexen twisted and shoved the copy onto his stomach. The replica looked over his shoulder for a moment before Vexen clamped his hands around his wrists and pressed them to the tile. Shackles of ice formed over pale skin, the thick bondage serving to bind him to the floor of the laboratory. The replica tugged and pulled, however, he made no success in actually breaking free. The next move Vexen made was to pull the copy's hips up into the air and push his legs open with his knees. With a swift movement, Vexen started grinding himself.

The clone wailed, throwing his head of curled locks up with a scream as he was finally penetrated with a crude, horrible sensation he had not expected. Tears rolled down his cheeks and pooled onto the floor from the waves of pain surging through his body from Vexen's cruel touch. The clone did not dare to turn to look back at his creator, but could only be forced to endure Vexen's moans of pleasure as he leaned forward and bit harshly. The vicious bite easily drew blood, which coursed down the copy's skin. The long, thin fingers of the scientist moved to the clone's hips and pulled them back. Before long, the blood served as lubrication between creator and doll, making Vexen's movements more fluid than before, and the pain more tolerable, for the man wailing under him.

No pleas to stop were created by the clone; the only signs were an occasional twitch of his arms or his head sagging between injured yelps and screams. Deathly silent, Vexen placed hastened, ruthless force behind each thrust, still paying no mind to the copy. A grin plastered itself onto the ice elemental's features, gazing down at the soft pink locks of hair, focusing closely in on the sound of the other's choked and struggling pleas before there was a sudden tightening. With the screech that came forth from the replica, Vexen assumed that he had reached his climax. His rage was further fueled by this aspect; the doll had not only reached his climax, but had done so promptly.

However, these thoughts were quickly pushed away from Vexen's mind. With a deep moan, Vexen twisted against the doll, causing his voice to crack with a dry, strangled cry. Vexen's teeth sank into flesh, biting and leaving a neat pair of rows indented into pearly flesh. As the tang of blood surged against his tongue, he choked out his own moan, feeling his body finally spill into the clone's.

Releasing his teeth from their hold on the replica's flesh, Vexen slumped against him and sighed tiredly. He leaned all of his body against the smaller's frame, grinning to himself all the while. As Vexen caught his own breath with deep gasps, the replica merely controlled his sobs until they were reduced to nearly whimpering, broken sniffles.

"That should be an adequate lesson for you," Vexen purred, flicking out a cool tongue to caress the bite wound. "You should remember this punishment for insubordination." Leaning up slowly and lazily, emerald eyes darted to the ice-crafted bonds on the copy's wrists. With a silent command, the ice shattered onto pale flesh, fragments melting away and leaving no signs of ever being present in the first place. Shocked and disoriented, the clone gasped and hit the floor with a loud thud, a soft cry threatening to surface. Satisfied with the final display of pain he had earned, Vexen pushed his body away from the copy and sat back on his knees.

Taking a moment, Vexen rolled the copy onto his back. Tearing sapphire eyes looked up at him, a steady stream of blood coursed from his nose down to his lips, gazing up at Vexen.

"You're delicate just like the roses you tend to," Four continued, his wicked smile never fading with his venomous tone. The carnal pleasure the Academic found as he looked upon the helplessness of the clone made his smile grow. "However," Vexen murmured as he leaned down to slowly run his hands up the clone's sweat and semen stained abdomen, "unlike the roses, you have been dethorned." Vexen's tongue moistened his lips as his hands traveled up the skin of the clone. "You aren't bad to look at, my doll, when you're powerless and restrained. The expression of imitated-fear is a beautiful mask for your features to have when looking at me." Ice-cold fingers slipped to the clone's chest and stayed there for several moments.

"For all that you put me through, I…"

Vexen froze, staring down at the copy.

Running his hand along the clone's chest, Vexen's hand found way to the soft skin of his neck. The clone flinched almost instantly at Vexen's touch, despite the scientist's fingers being gentle as opposed to their rough grip before.

"Be still," Vexen said quietly, narrowing his eyes for a moment as the pads of his fingers went onto the clone's throat. A moment of silence as the scientist observed the replica quietly before his eyes went wide.

"You have a pulse, clone," Vexen stammered. Immediately, Vexen's hand jerked backwards as if the copy was made of hot coals. The copy merely looked at Vexen in bewilderment and confusion as he gauged Vexen's reaction; whether or not his heart would earn him punishment or praise. "This… you can't!" Vexen hissed from his miscalculation. "Marluxia and Nobodies have no physiological heart! The implications of this, they're—"

The laboratory was filled with silence, Number Four gazing down at the clone. The clone's tender limbs drew inwards again, as if to protect himself from the Nobody's view. The replica dipped his head down as well, seeming to further shield himself from the blonde. The silence persisted for minutes between master and his doll; Vexen was unable to bring himself to breach it. His eyes remained on the doll before he crouched down.

"You have a heart, do you not?" Vexen whispered quietly.

The copy's head nodded gently in acknowledgement, strawberry crème curls bouncing in reply.

There was further silence before Vexen pressed again, remembering their conversation before he had been summoned to Marluxia's room. "You showed me so, when I said that you hadn't emotion, didn't you?" Vexen ventured farther, leaning further toward the copy's face. However, the copy merely nodded once more, his body still coiled protectively.

Viridian eyes wandered to the tile, seeming to find the imperfections with how the surfaces were created, the fine cracks and wrinkles in the marble, the perfect distraction. He was silent before his eyes returned to the replica.

Soothingly, his arms moved to embrace the copy. The copy shook fearfully, much like the beaten animal he had been like before. Vexen ran his hand down the copy's back, gently stroking and petting his back. Finally, the copy's body stopped shaking, the only movement from him being the rise and fall of his chest.

"I did not observe you correctly, then," Vexen said quietly, holding the doll in his arms. "I cannot say that I feel genuine sorrow for my actions, but I am as deeply apologetic as a creature without a Heart can be." He looked down at the replica, staying silent to see the possible reaction he might have gained.

"Vexen," was the final response, spoken clearly in the cool laboratory air. The copy looked up at Vexen, a small smile on his face. Vexen stared at the smiling face of Marluxia in his arms, his turn to become confused at the seeming compassion of such an innocent look.

Why would he receive pity? Why would a being with a Heart do such a thing as smile upon him after in such a horrific incident? A beast--an error against the properties of all tangible and real--had received such forgiveness?

"Vexen," the replica repeated, weak hands going onto the scientist's cotton shirt and gripping the wrinkled material in his fists.

The Nobody's head lowered, the tips of his sandy hair touching the copy's cheeks and brushing the tops of his hands. The imitation gently moved his hand and touched the strands of hair that were near his face.

"I shall get your clothing," Vexen spoke, his face washed of all emotion, merely watching the child-like movements of the replica's hand to his hair. Each movement, Vexen noted, was increasingly refined. And if the copy were to gain the control of his hands like he wanted, then he could easily start to stroke his hair and touch it.

Parting from the copy, Vexen tucked his exposed member back into his slacks before walking toward a storage room. Soon, he found with simple blue jeans and a white button down shirt; Vexen did not wear the jeans usually, but they were there in case of needed mobility without much compensation for protection during experiments. Returning to the laboratory, he came upon the sight of the replica having climbed to his feet, the same innocent smile on his face. His hand gently gripped the lab bench for support.

"Don't move from there!" Vexen gasped, running to the other man. "You don't know what chemicals there are up there and you could get hurt!"

Immediately, the replica let go of the countertop and looked at Vexen with a confused look before his mouth opened with a surprised cry as he found himself losing his balance and falling down to the marble tile once again. A frown quickly spread across the replica's face that was purely youthful, filled with annoyance, before he looked up at Vexen and stretched out his arms in a demand for assistance.

Vexen's face cracked into a sad smile before he leaned down and helped the replica up to his feet.

"I will not let you stay here to sleep," Vexen said simply as a corridor was formed around them. "We shall retire to my quarters for tonight, as we have no other spare and comfortable rooms within Castle Oblivion."


	6. Chapter 6

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 6

Quietly, a hand rose from the side of the sterile hospital bed. With that weak amount of strength, the occupant of the bed rested it on his chest. Each struggling breath was accompanied by the crinkle of crisp sheet to a steady, melodic symphony of electronic blips and chirps. By the bedside was a simple model ship, constructed of delicately assembled pieces. Little plastic parts made a ship that Alumira was certain would once take to the skies.

He sat up in his bed, long lashed eyelids coming open then squinting at the bright flood of light that poured into the small hospital room. With several grunts of effort, the teenage boy turned in his bed and picked up the small ship he had constructed the day before. A small smile came onto his face as he looked at it, observing his handiwork with pride. Elegant fingers turned and looked at the spacecraft made of brilliant blocks of manufactured gems. Rays of sunlight poured in through the room as Alumira smiled, holding up the ship to take in the beams of light. The ship was a kaleidoscope from which the light shone through, and with each twist the teen made to the ship, the rainbow of colors danced along the cool walls of his hospital room.

"Alu?"

Alumira almost fell off of the bed from being startled so drastically looking up to see his father standing in the doorway. His expression lit up happily even more as the older gentleman came in, hanging his coat up onto the back of the door. His father was a robust man, but good looking with a rosy complexion. Alumira's own messy locks of black hair were mirrored on his father, only with stripes of grey. The older man sat down next to Alumira, observing the small ship as Alumira lowered it down to rest in his lap.

"I see you built it already…," his father said, laughing as strong yet soft hands moved over Alumira's. He observed his son's handiwork before grinning wider.

"Not much to do around here," Alumira replied, handing the ship to his father. "I liked the design a lot…"

"Good—that's the next one I'm seeing about constructing," the older man said, holding it up to the light as well. "If only your brother was so delicate and interested in the family business…" The blue-eyed boy pursed his lips slightly at the mention of his older brother, but remained silent to allow his father to continue speaking. "The doctors told me that you were going to be able to come home sometime this week."

Alumira blinked as he looked up at his father. "Really?" he asked, sapphire eyes widening. "They're going to be releasing me that early?"

"Provided you don't fall again," his father chuckled as he handed the ship back to Alumira. The fair skinned teen placed the ship back onto the table next to his bed. Alumira chuckled as well, resting his hands on his knees.

"Trust me, father, I make it my goal to not break all of my bones," Alumira responded, his voice elegant and smooth. A smile went onto his face. "How is mother?"

His father turned, the bed creaking to accommodate his larger form. "Your mom's fine, just fine," Alumira's father said. "Just worried sick about you, that's all. She wants her baby Alumira back…"

Alumira laughed, his cheeks turning red. "Tell mother I'm not a baby," he replied in a refined voice. "I am eighteen years old; therefore, I am in no way a child."

Tracing his hand over to the frail teen's hair, his father ran his fingers affectionately through it, gently patting Alumira's back. "You'll always be her baby Alumira, and you know I can't tell her otherwise," he grinned. "And you can't tell _me_ otherwise." With that, Alumira's father wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, squeezing him into his chest tightly and protectively.

Closing his eyes, Alumira took in the scent of fresh flowers that always accompanied his father. That scent of the fresh rain and blossoming spring buds would be described as effeminate to some, but the cologne always brought the memories of his father. Even before he could feel arms around him, the fragrance that accompanied him made him feel safe regardless of the situation.

"Then tell her not to worry about me, then," Alumira noted, sitting up only for the purpose of moving closer to his father's hold. The pale boy closed his eyes and let a small breath escape from his lips. Alumira missed the sound of his father's steady heartbeat from having spent so long in the confines of his hospital bed. "And you don't worry about me either, alright?"

There was a steady chuckle from the older man, his body moving with it as he held Alumira. "I'll try to, I'll try to," he said quietly. "I know you're a strong boy, Alu."

"Thanks," the black haired teen replied softly.

There was a comfortable silence between father and son for a moment before there was the sound of a large crash outside the hospital room, causing Alumira to sit up straight suddenly. He glanced at his father then leaned around to try and catch a glimpse of what had possibly happened. The crash had quickly precipitated into a shouting match.

"Listen, asshole, I'm just going back to check on my little brother, okay?"

"Please, sir, just relax—"

"Relax? How in the fuck do you expect me to relax?! Some jackass stabbed my little brother in the arm!"

Alumira caught a red headed doctor stepping back, holding up his arms in defense as another person quickly stepped forward. The assailant was of a lean build; Alumira mused that he was around his own height—maybe even a little shorter—but his lean build gave him the appearance of being much taller. His dark crimson hair was spiked back into sharp points, several pieces of hair crafted to frame his face. The clothes he wore were disheveled and a bit worn in places.

"I understand, sir, that you're upset, but your brother's going to be just fine!" the doctor pleaded. "N-Nurse, please take him back to see his brother!"

"He better fucking be!" he roared. "He was bleeding all over the place!" The loud, rough-looking individual turned and snorted.

For a moment, his bright emerald eyes caught Alumira's and held his. The attacker's angry scowl relaxed and curled into a smile, relief seeming to make itself evident in his posture. The black haired teen imagined that it was due to the other finally being permitted to see his injured little brother. There was a connection for a moment, making Alumira return the smile with one of his own. Both he and the rowdy teen in the hall connected by chance with each other's gaze.

Just as suddenly as the world had slowed around them, the surroundings seemed to come return to life. Alumira sat up straight once again and brushed his hair behind his ear, the attacker having ducked out of view to presumably follow the summoned nurse, and the hapless doctor took a moment to collect himself before going on his way, ruffling his hair with his hand.

"I hope that boy's brother's alright," Alumira heard his father say before he pulled Alumira into a second hug. It was firmer than the last, yet shorter as he clapped his hand gently on the frail boy's back. Alumira was quick to put his arms around him as best he physically could, considering his father's larger size. "I hate to seem uncaring, however, I have an appointment that I have to go to…" A look of genuine regret crossed his father's face as he pulled away from the teen, but he soon smiled again. "Your mother and I will be by to visit you tonight, I promise."

Alumira smiled softly and nodded. "I look forward to it… and have a safe trip…"

His father nodded and took his coat, shutting the door behind him, leaving Alumira in the silence of his hospital room once again. He hoped the rowdy teen did not see his brother as he laid back down, slipping his hands onto his chest. Alumira thought his thoughts were horribly selfish, but to have that sort of person become his friend—he would comfort him and make sure to listen to him as he told him of his frustrations. Closing his eyes, he frowned softly, trying to will himself to sleep in preparation for his parents' return later that evening.


	7. Chapter 7

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 7

Vexen leaned back in his armchair, one hand gripping the arm of his desk chair while the other held a small tape recorder.

"The work on the replicas have been quite astounding," Vexen said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he brought the microphone end of the recorder close to his mouth. "The most impressive of which would be the recently created replica of Two; his life functions were astounding, and seemed to be a near copy physically of him. Creation started August…" Vexen's voice trailed off with a thoughtful sigh.

"August twenty-forth at 08:05 and was completed on the twenty-seventh at 13:54."

Emerald eyes shifted to the still body on the table. Vexen had long since dismantled the creature he had made. It looked like Xigbar, minus one scar and plus one eye, and had functioned like Braig.

"Termination of replica of Two was decided on August twenty-eighth at 00:32 after severe developmental deformities surfaced and replica—" Vexen ran his tongue against his upper lip with another soft sigh, his hands releasing then gripping the arm of the chair once more. "—Replica obviously was in agonizing pain. Termination was carried out today, August twenty-ninth at 12:25 without incident. After observation of Riku is completed, an attempt of a replication of him will be started within twenty-four hours."

Vexen's head snapped back with a crooning moan before he clenched his teeth together in embarrassment.

"I… I would like to personally thank you for… the reward… for my w-work," Vexen said with a shuddering sigh. "I am d-deeply grateful for… t-the thought, Xemnas."

Vexen's finger quickly jammed the stop button on the recorder before he just dropped it to the ground with a clack. A black-gloved hand moved to grab the spiked red hair of Xemnas's messenger and gift.

"Axel…" Vexen moaned, his teeth clenching tightly together. Axel had no care for what he was doing at the moment as he pleasured the scientist. Vexen's hand moved to the back of Axel's head and gripped his hair. Bright green eyes flicked up to observe the elder's enjoyment before he continued.

After a loud, relaxed groan from the scientist as he went limp, Axel pulled away while Vexen sat in the warmth of his release. Swallowing nonchalantly as he got back to his feet, Eight looked at his superior. "Well, that's over with," Axel grinned before he hopped up on Vexen's desk. Vexen merely made a grunt of acknowledgement that the deed was done, noticing a small Shadow Heartless show up and pick up the tape recorder.

"Well, it's back to Superior I go," Axel said. "Best you keep this out of sight and out of mind with Rox."

"I don't speak to Neophytes, Eight," Vexen stated plainly.

"Not a problem 'bout that," Axel said, watching as the Shadow hopped onto his lap and presented him with the tape recorder. "Then again, you talk to me."

"Of course I talk to you," Vexen said, annoyance tinting his voice. "You're the messenger for Superior."

"Touché," Axel said, winking before he picked up the recorder and fiddled with it for a moment, popping out the miniature cassette from it. He snapped the black plastic front back on before setting it down on the desk. "I thought it was because we're best friends."

"I only showed you the essentials of your life as a Nobody," Vexen said.

"Awfully fatherly of you," Axel countered. "And I greatly appreciate it"

Vexen snorted with a smile. "I'm in no way a father figure," he stated quietly, chuckling at the thought. "I hate children, especially ones as immature as yourself."

"Daddy, please," Axel said, picking up a folder as he sat on the desk, opening the manila item and sliding the cassette into it. "It makes it sound like you don't love me no more."

"I can't stand the sight of you," Vexen laughed having stood up and zipped his slacks up once again. "Now get the hell out."


	8. Chapter 8

.Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 8

Even's eyes roamed over the pristine labs of Ansem the Wise—everything was even more extravagant than what he had heard about from older war comrades. One of them told the younger Even of how he had held an internship at their King's royal research lab; Even could not recall the details of his friend's research—something about digestion and emesis habits of the Northern Radiant macaques, but if there was ever the place to study monkey vomit, the Royal Center for Scientific Advancement was the best place to do so. In the time after the war, scientific research had shifted away from the physical sciences into increasing interest in the various aspects of human behavior—research that culminated into "Ansem's Theory of Emotional Expression." With the basic research from the king's theory, he had gathered (or coerced effectively in monetary terms) six researchers to find applications for his theories.

"Ain't it nice?" one of Even's new coworkers whistled. The fair skinned man turned to see his glasses-wearing, shorter scientist colleague, Braig. Braig, Even soon saw, was arguably going to be his least favorite associate. Prior to their first day on the job, the scientists had decided to meet several times, to know each other. Braig was a rough, brash man; he could push a person's buttons once he found them. To build upon this, once he found said buttons, he delighted in nothing more than to press them for temporary amusement. The only person to stomach (or, rather, control) the wiry researcher was Dilan.

Dilan was a grave-looking man, a serious expression on his face at all times. Even was much fonder of the quiet Dilan than the shorter scientist. However, Dilan was not without his mischievous side—his sense of humor was a slyer variant of Braig's own. But, Even mused, the tall scientist was at least decent enough not to act on those urges, and not the bundle of nervous energy that Braig was.

"It is very fine indeed," came a soft-spoken voice. Even looked down at the junior-most of the researchers—Ienzo. Ienzo was, simply put, a genius. Having graduated with a national honor at the age of just thirteen, the now-eighteen year old Ienzo was a study of interested in of himself. Though most public knowledge of the youth came from quaint entertainment programs—"The Eight Year Old Whiz-Kid" as he had been labeled—the genuine scientific interest in him was there. Even could sense a glimpse of the child within the mature scholar. Ienzo had a youthful frankness to him—something that the war-experienced older men had lost years prior.

Accompanying the youth was the most muscular, intimidating man Even had ever encountered. But this initial judgment was definitely in error. Aeleus was someone Even had an affinity toward, as well as some history with. Like Dilan, Braig, and himself, Aeleus had been in the "Great War," as it had been saccharinely dubbed. Dilan had been a part of the strategic and spying sector with Braig, and Even himself was field doctor. Aeleus, as he had seen and heard, was a part of a special tactical force. While highly important, these forces were often overlooked for the Keybladers they helped: they were highly skilled at using earth-based magic. They caused both disasters in the form of mudslides and other ways to damage enemy armies as well as fortifying other areas for the allies. The defensive properties were definitely the most utilized by this group.

Even brushed his hand over the railing, his jaw dropping a little more as he leaned over the wide labs. Braig's words of teasing and Dilan's counter-quips were ignored as the fair-haired blond almost fell over the metal railing in an attempt to get a better look. The laboratory was several stories in height, many rooms and assistants buzzing in and out of them.

"That was my reaction, too."

The tall doctor glanced over to see the softly smiling face of Xehanort. He was even more mysterious than he had originally thought: the younger man was an absolute genius, but with no formal education—or, at least not that he remembered. Xehanort, Even had been informed by the ever-nosy Braig, was an amnesiac—found by Ansem himself on the streets. Xehanort was brought under the King's wing and was soon considered to be like the son Ansem never had. Inexplicably, Even found himself mystified and attracted to the exotic-looking man with the silver hair. As he looked to the other's warm-colored eyes, Even smile but repeated a mantra to himself for that he could not understand—he was a married man.

"To think what could be done here," Even replied in a hushed voice. Leaning close to reply, the warmth of Xehanort's breath to his cheek and ear, the older man felt a gentle hand squeezed Even's arm.

"My thoughts again," Xehanort smiled, his eagerness infecting Even. The doctor beamed as he adjusted his glasses, a small chuckle coming from him.

"What will be done here is even more amazing."

Like two students caught by their teacher gossiping to themselves, Even and Xehanort glanced up to see Ansem the Wise with a benevolent and calm smile on his face. "It's time that I introduce the specifics or what I want to be done."

Even smiled a Xehanort grinned back to him, his hand sliding off from the blond's arm to focus fully on Ansem. The first assistant, Even thought to himself as he watched Xehanort attentively listening to Ansem, was the most dangerously alluring.


	9. Chapter 9

Of Ice, Roses, and Lies: A Detailed Memoir of the Events of the Siege of Castle Oblivion

Chapter 9

Lexaeus looked up from his book, glancing at down at Zexion. The younger was reading a book of his own across from him, sitting in an old couch that dated back to their days at Radiant Garden. It was old and soft—one that Ienzo frequently sat upon in the break room. Many memories were within the soft, worn leather—Lexaeus could trace the mars and tears as fluidly as he could look dart through mechanisms, memories of each could be recalled within an instant. One such mark—a burn upon the arm of the chair—was made by a cigarette of Dilan's. Dilan was distracted by Braig's ineptitude in the kitchen (the first time he had broken the coffee machine and far from the last, if Lexaeus remembered correctly) and he forgot about the smoldering cigarette within his hand.

"Is Four approaching yet?" Lexaeus asked from his seat to Zexion, azure eyes barely rising from the musty page of his text. Zexion shook his head quietly.

"He is in his laboratory," Six replied quietly, his tone polite and formal as ever despite any level of closeness. He stopped and smiled to Lexaeus in a subtly way that was far more telling of his personality, tilting his head to the side; he never dare showed a more youthful face to anyone else in the Organization. "Why did you ask?"

Five's fingers slid a bookmark into the pages, his attention far from the book. He shut the creased-covered novel, placing it upon the table to speak.

"Is it exactly necessary for Vexen to keep that replica hidden?" Lexaeus questioned. "He hides the replica of Marluxia within his quarters. He hasn't even informed Axel of its creation—Xemnas would want to know more about that than anyone."

Zexion's expression went serious once more, a hand brushing several stray strands of hair behind his ear, only to have them come loose once again and fall onto his cheek.

"Axel is a double agent," Zexion stated mechanically. "We should assume that all information given to Axel would be passed onto Marluxia as well—I do suppose that is the conflict that Vexen is avoiding."

"But Axel is clearly aligned with Superior," Lexaeus stated. "It should not be a problem or him to know about the replica, Marluxia's knowledge or not."



Zexion looked down for a moment. "I would have thought that as well," he whispered, blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "However, I suspect that Vexen is thinking Axel would not be able to distinguish between what can and cannot be leaked—he knows Eight well. From my observation, Axel is with Superior to save himself. It is his individualistic nature to go with the strongest, like any creature." Zexion rested his book to the side, his thin legs crossing, his fingertips touching. "We pose to be the stronger of the two factions within the Castle, we gain Axel as our ally and Superior's favor. If Marluxia were to be the strongest, then Axel would more gladly support him than us and Superior's support would clearly lie with him." A sigh came from the younger man. "Essentially, it is up to Axel's digression as to who to help and who not to help. However, Vexen is more or less wanting to beat Marluxia in a power struggle, and will be creating the second successful replication of a being."

"But going as far as to lie in Xemnas's face?" Lexaeus said. His brow knitted slightly at the thought of his colleague's utter recklessness. "He does realize that Xemnas—"

"Yes," Zexion noted. "I imagine that Vexen has put this into some sort of check-and-balance of benefits so—in his mind—the end justifies the means. To state that the initial replica was a failure leaves Marluxia more open to attack, and can quickly be written off in hindsight with Marluxia's fall. Once we use Riku to assist us in finding the Room of Awakening, not only will we have one way of regaining our Hearts, but two."

"True," Lexaeus said quietly, looking down for a moment, mulling over Zexion's statement. "Though, it troubles me to play such a petty game. If Vexen is found out before Marluxia is eliminated, then he would most likely be branded a traitor."

"It's Vexen's nature," Zexion said simply, with an air of frustrated dismissal.

Lexaeus cracked a smile at Zexion's comment, making a slight chuckle at it. "I guess that is right," he said. "However, I suspect an ulterior reasoning behind Vexen's actions with the replica of Marluxia."

"What would that be?" Zexion questioned, arching a brow to the other.

"Do you think he cares for the replica on some level?" Lexaeus questioned.

"He cannot care for a replication," Zexion stated, his tone seeming much like a textbook's at the moment. "He cannot care for anything, like we cannot care for anything. And a replication of Marluxia of all beings?"

Lexaeus's eyes went to the ground once more. "Is that so?" he said. "I can care for you, Zexion."

Zexion's sapphire eyes looked at Lexaeus. "I know that, but that is because of our love when we were Somebodies," Six reasoned immediately. "We loved each other then, and our memories of that life carried over. We retained that memory and sensation, and thus it is not unreasonable to assume we can act to each other as Somebodies despite our lack of Heart. 

Hollow motions that we fully intend to be loving." A reassuring smile came onto Zexion's face. "I am not saying that we do not love each other, but we do and do not at the same time."

"Typical of our state as a Nobody to be so damned contradicting," Lexaeus chuckled. "But because of Even having no previous feelings for the Somebody of Marluxia, we cannot assume that Vexen's feelings for the replication of Marluxia are true?"

"Exactly," Zexion nodded. "Even was a heterosexual male—married and had a child—therefore, it is unreasonable to assume him to suddenly become flirtatious with a male—a copy of a man he reviles immensely." A pause. "Then again, it would not surprise me considering Even's family situation. I cannot, and do not want to, know about the inner workings of Even's mind, as it is not my place to say. However, it could be another type of love that Even was more familiar with now that I think about it—it could be one of parental love."

Lexaeus was silent for several moments.

"Where is he now?" Lexaeus asked.

"He has… now arrived in his room," Zexion noted. "He is in there with the replication." Lexaeus was silent, seeming to acknowledge the news, yet play through whatever Vexen must have been doing with the replica. He mused if Vexen held idle chat with the replica—a greeting, asking what he did during the day, telling him of his own actions—or if he simply sat in silence.

"When was the last time that you were around a Somebody for an extended amount of time?" Lexaeus questioned as he wondered out of his thoughts.

Zexion craned his head back in thought, staring at the ceiling. "Well, I've been around them, of course. You should know that. But not for extended periods of time."

"We clearly can see the actions of the replica are like those of a Somebody, despite his Heart being artificially created," Lexaeus stated. "A Heart is a Heart, apparently."

"What is your point you are trying to make?" Zexion stated.

"That Vexen is around a Somebody constantly now," Lexaeus stated. "An artificial creation, but someone no less a Somebody. Just because a Nobody cannot place a form of love or emotion toward the Somebody, doesn't mean the reverse is true."

"An interesting point," Zexion stated quietly. "But it does not explain Vexen's actions."

"Agreed," Lexaeus admitted, his hand sliding to his book once more. "There is no use in confronting him without further thought upon the matter, I guess."


End file.
